


Too Early to Tell

by noahbadpuns



Category: Monster Prom (Visual Novel)
Genre: Gen, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-02 20:32:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14552964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noahbadpuns/pseuds/noahbadpuns
Summary: The four different morning routines for four monsters with the same first day at a new school.





	Too Early to Tell

First days of schools and last days of schools are pretty much the same for Amira. The blare of her most hated band on the loudest volume that makes her eyes twitch awake. There’s hangover written all over her from the new temporary tattoo or the empty ice cream container that’s cut into two. And the reason why she got drunk enough to dance on the ceiling? Same reason, because of the next day.

And today’s no different, except it totally is. Because it’s not a monotonous return to the same building that she’s almost grown up in. Nope, graduated junior high last spring with such happiness she almost fainted. After seventeen years going through the mundane cycle of monster junior high, she’s finally escaped to high school.

Spooky High School.

Okay, so she almost laughed at the name when her counselors told her to apply. Actually, scratch that, she did laugh but took the brochures and website information anyway. And twenty minutes later, she almost scurried to figure out how to apply. Really it didn’t matter about the types of classes or how late the classes started, though starting at ten does have some perks, but the people.

Starting from Principal Giant Spider down to the freshman class of this year. She’d snuck a glance at who had applied via a wedged open backdoor. Everyone had something wrong with them. But in a good way. Murder, mayhem, and arson abound! She couldn’t _not_ apply to such a badass place. And when she got the acceptance letter, she pranced right into her house, said she’s fucking leaving, and sauntered right out.

For a week she spent finding the perfect place. And then she came across it. A beautiful apartment with red wallpaper and a balcony. With the owners killed, their bank accounts hacked, and the landlord bribed, she made it perfect. Moved the bed to the center of the living room, bought a giant plushie dragon, and made her own meditation room. Perfect, perfect, _perfect._

But now she kind of wants more sleep.

With a yawn, though, she kicks back the covers and rolls into the floor. “First day, fuck it.” She turns off her alarm, resisting the urge to toss her phone, and stares at the severed hand in a pair of discarded underwear on the ceiling fan. She blinks. “Okay, maybe _don’t_ drink a gallon of Stranded Barbies the night before school.”

Yet she’s probably going to do it next year.

It might even become a tradition.

 

* * *

 

“Ah ha!” Vicky shouts in victory as her phone beeps. Adam Jones: Lawyer Intern caught. Now she can finally fill that empty home at the end of her neighborhood. Huh, she’ll have to up his stats, though. Intern means no job, or worse, an unpaid job. That’ll lower his fulfillment without a doubt. Regardless, she plops him down into the two-bedroom home with a garden. Made sure it was a pleasant place to fall asleep in while watching the clouds. Oh, she’s got a dream of such a place.

Well, maybe not a two bedroom home with a garden.

Maybe more of a castle with a hundred bedrooms.

With a garden.

Oh, she can dream.

Even though she really shouldn’t be doing that right now.

Especially with her two brothers using her as a horse to defeat the dangerous knight. Defend the wounded dragon from such a vicious being!

Vicky drops her phone and neighs with ferocity before charging forward. “To arms, men, for the victory of the Scales!” Yeah, horse’s don’t usually talk, but she won’t get upstaged by her brothers. Victor and Vincent. Ten years younger than her with the same exact nickname as her. Someone once yelled “Vic’s free pizza!” in the mall and almost got mauled. She almost lost a finger trying to get them off the poor lady.

No one got any free pizza. Just lectures from Dad.

And he’s really good at lecturing. To the point that it goes on for hours and she just wants to stab a knife through her ears! Victor and Vincent can just ignore him, though, because he uses such big words all the time.

Like now, as he’s a dying knight.

“Just die, Dad.” Vincent whacks Dad on the head with the wooden sword as Victor carries in the dragon’s head to witness the end of a revenge series.

“Look upon the dead body of the knight that has slain you, oh wise Scalie.” Victor holds the head up and nods to an unknown rhythm just as Vicky’s phone goes off.

“Ah, right!” She glances at the screen for a Pokeman update. Instead, there’s her alarm. Oh. Oh _no_. “I have school!” She pulls off her horse head and shuts off her alarm. “Wait, don’t you have school?”

“I’m sick.” Vincent coughs.

“I hate school.” Victor smiles and bites the dragon’s head.

So... “Do _I_ have to go?” She points sheepishly to herself.

Dad gets up, picks Vincent and Victor up, and shakes his head. “You’re all going to school.”

Well, that’s pretty blunt.

She sighs and sheds her the rest of her costume. “Next time I’m going to be the knight that protects the princess!” She stamps her fist into her hand.

“I’m gonna be the princess!” Victor screams.

“No, I am!” Vincent tosses his sword at Victor.

 _Okay_ , she ducks under the dragon’s head, _maybe school is the dream for now._ She races to her room before they decide to start throwing body parts again.

 

* * *

 

Brian stuffs the stupid demon back in the pickle jar and decides against a sandwich for the first day’s lunch.

He doesn’t even get this shit anymore, he’s tried every grocery store. No one just sells normal food anymore, apparently. Except maybe the human stores, but he likes to avoid those places. Not really because of his appearance, more because he might find more things to avoid, like food allergies.

He grabs leftover _Mummy Mum’s_ and looks through the white containers. One contains fava beans and falafels, another contains kushari, and the third has a pile of meat. Nothing looks possessed or stupid, so he hopes the new school’s got a microwave. Or someone who really likes fire.

That he’s kind of expecting. There’s always one person who likes fire, especially showing it off. Or just arson. There’s always that option.

He tosses the pile of meat into his backpack and watches one of the straps fall off. For fuck’s sake, he groans. Should just skip. It’s going to be a terrible day.

Yet he sighs and starts picking up his things. A couple notebooks, for doodling and note taking, a shit ton of pens, and a sewing kit.

“Keep that out.” He plops down onto the floor and pulls his bag close. “Still got time.” He mutters and sets out his sewing kit.

Sometimes his jacket gets new cuts in it. He’s not sure why, though. Maybe he’s becoming a mutant like in those old cartoon shows? No memory of it, just grows wings and fucks off to nowhere. Doesn’t seem plausible, but the world’s a fucked up place.

And he's about to end up in a place that thrives on that fucked up shit.

He's not as stupid as most people think. His brain might fall out every couple of months, but it never loses any information. Spooky High's one step away from prison for most of its students. Besides arson, there's murder, kidnapping, and that one kid that stuffs bodies into wedding cakes. No one's the best unless they're being the _worst_.

He pulls the needle out of his finger and realigns the string. Why Spooky High? There were enough acceptance letters sitting on his kitchen table that he could've been marked as a genius.

Did he want to start something? A fight? A fire? A play? _Anything_? Those were all his friends' questions when he told them his choice. No one heads to Spooky High without a plan.

He bites off the end of the thread and sighs. Maybe he'll find someone who can deal with this demon food shit.

 

* * *

 

“I do _not_ look like a pencil!” Oz attempts to snatch their pencil away from the phobia, but it shoves it right down its throat. If they had an actual eye, it might start twitching now.

“What if that was my only pencil?” Do these little things not realize the anxiety they’d have to go through asking new classmates for a pencil. Who doesn’t bring a pencil the first day? Well, no, what if they ask that kind of cool monster that never has a pencil? That, that...so many grim possibilities.

They feel their skin leaking away, staining the floor of their apartment. Lived here for almost all their physically shaped lifespan. And yet they’d rather wiggle right under the bed and stay there for a while. Become part of the shadows again. Listen to the fears they all share and hear. The eyes of many. Many, many, so _many_...

 _Right_. “Slow.” A phobia whispers, rubbing Oz’s cheek with a red pen. “Think of waffles!” Ah. Cibophobia. It enjoyed taunting them due to their inability to consume much of anything unless there was an intense emotion.

And that extreme emotions exactly why they’re heading to Spooky High.

They finish buttoning up their vest as a phobia unbuttons their white shirt. Still summer, so they don’t want to melt all over their clothes. Takes a great deal of time to get any more funds. Plus the garage’s starting to fill up with corpses. Now, they could find someone to sell that shit too. But that requires talking.

Another problem because they’ve got two options. Either freak monsters out with a voice in their head. Or talk through the phobias, which, again, will freak monsters out.

Huh.

So both terrible options.

Guess they’re going full wall shadow.

“Such lonely thoughts.” Autophobia coos and pats them on the head. Condescending and always around.

They stretch and shoo the phobias away, walking into their living room and laying out on the couch. Got about twenty minutes before school starts, but also twenty-five minutes to figure out who wins MonsterChef.

Between the eldritch horror, the hand with seven mouths, and the werewolf, they’re certain it’s the hand. It’s already ahead of everyone else and taunting the judges and other contestants. Seven mouths come in handy.

A sigh escapes one of the general phobias as it plays with their hair. “Today’s another day; today’s the day.” It sings, braiding shadow over shadow.

Soothing.

_Distracting._

“Hey!” They look down and start shaking their foot. “Stop eating my shoes!” They can hear the chuckling between the phobias. Might as well leave now before the little shits decide to strip them naked.


End file.
